


Quid Pro Crow

by ClockworkSampi



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSampi/pseuds/ClockworkSampi
Summary: The newest issue of Bunbunmaru is all set to go, with the exception that a third of its space is empty.How fortunate that Aya has just the person to interview for the going ons around Gensokyo, and the perfect disguise to get it.





	Quid Pro Crow

**Author's Note:**

> Touhou Project and all related trademarks are the property of Team Shanghai Alice. Please support the official products in every capacity.

It is said that pictures steal a portion of one’s soul, which is the textbook definition of libel. Never mind that it was true; it hurt that people accused.

 

If asked, there was one social awareness reportage writer who would instead suggest that it was not the photos that burgled souls, but the hats. Take the traditional tengu tokin hat, for the sake of discussion. Would a tengu be caught dead without their tokin? Yes, as a matter of fact. ‘Dead’ was the only acceptable state for a tokinless tengu. The tokin was just as much a part of the tengu identity as was being better than everyone else at everything.

 

The right hat was the capstone of any solidly-constructed identity. Faces were satisfactory, but what people really noticed about someone was the furnishing; hats, headbands, ribbons, glasses, earrings, acceptably large ears. Take off your hat, you became nobody. Put on another, and you were so different, it was as if you swapped souls.

 

The woman theoretically wearing another’s soul was named Aya Shameimaru, and she was definitely a human. If she were a tengu, she would be wearing a tokin, not a cabbie, and therefore, the only logical assumption was that was a human. Stood to reason.

 

Presently however, there were none to behold her obvious humanity while she walked (according to her research, a statistical minority of humans flew) down one of the lesser-trod paths of the human village. You got more smoothed road work up on the mountain. More repaired houses, too. A horse or an ox could be seen here and there, but they rested on cinder blocks. Most buildings were covered in a resplendent rainbow of graffiti, and it did not escape Aya’s notice that someone had come around and, with a brush, some red ink, and an abundance of razor accuracy, had added, marked out, and given an overall score to the home artworks.

 

There was something about being the area closest to the Bamboo Forest of the Lost (which, alone, had seen forty-four percent of Gensokyo’s feral youkai attacks in the past decade) that just cleared people out of the neighborhood. The lucky ones even got the opportunity to move out.

 

With the rise of the spell card system, fatal assaults by youkai on humans were down across Gensokyo, and the Forest was both an exception and a follower. Yes, it had seen an overall lowering of human deaths, but this served as no comfort while there was no information on what was causing those charred youkai corpses to turn up.

 

_Well_ , thought Aya as she stepped up to the door of her destination, _none yet_.

 

She knocked on the door. When it opened after some minor scuffling to reveal a blue and white figure, Aya was prepared with her Purest and Most Honest smile and holding out her business card.

 

“Good day, Miss Kamishirasawa. Aya Shameimaru of _Bunbunmaru_ news, here. Wondering if I could have a few moments of your time?”

 

Miss Keine Kamishirasawa – teacher, eater of History, were-hakutaku - stared at Aya for a half second, then said, “Why, if it isn’t Miss Shameimaru. What a pleasant surprise,” looking surprised and endeavoring to sound pleasant. “What brings the Reporter of Fantasy to my doorstep?”

 

It had been when Aya was putting her disguise through it’s first in vivo tests that Keine approached Aya, and then made it clear, with all the conviviality of someone in an alleyway referring to you as their pal, that Aya’s existence in the human village would be tolerated, seeing how the biggest threat she posed to its denizens was to their privacy. That said, possibly Aya should print an issue reminding youkai what happens when they overstep their boundaries. Because if any other crow tengu sets one talon on one cobble, the only thing Aya would have to report would be an attempted murder.

 

Aya had taken small offence at being ordered around by a half-beast of all things, and even more at being called harmless. The traditional response to such a challenge was to drop a typhoon on the fool’s place of residence. But that was not something done these days, not if you wanted there to be news to write tomorrow. Plus, Keine said it more like a _suggestion_ , so Aya supposed she could let it slide.

 

“And will you permit me to congratulate you?” Keine went on with a teacherly humorlessness.

 

“I’ve hardly stopped anyone before,” said Aya, still radiating Purity and Honesty.

 

“The _Bunbunmaru_ issue from last month was the talk of the schoolhouse. I can’t remember the last time my students were so eager to read anything. Although they were rather disappointed when there turned out to be no pictures of the most popular article.”

 

Aya tapped her temple with her card. “Last month’s? That would be…”

 

She groaned. This _again_ …

 

“Personally, I failed to see what the uproar was about,” said Keine, resting a cheek on her right palm.

 

“Look, I never set out to hurt anyone-” began Aya.

 

“And I stood up for you, Miss Shameimaru. I did. Planting season is, after all, right around the corner.”

 

“Not my fault,” averred Aya. “This, this right here is why I spend more time on pictures than articles. I take my time actually crafting the words, lining them up for a cute, feel-good story, because it’s the last article in the issue, people are undoubtedly going to read it. And everyone just reads the headline! It’s that fake Apocalypse fiasco all over again! Why do I even bother being creative? Does no one read anymore?”

 

“A question I find myself asking every other hour,” said Keine. “Nevertheless, I understand you intend to write a formal apology to the Aki sisters in the next issue.”

 

“Lord Tenma said I should ‘strongly consider’ doing so, and that maintaining a healthy relationship with the gods of the Mountain is the duty of every tengu,” said Aya, who firmly believed government should have no sway over the news.

 

“I see you considered it strongly,” observed Keine.

 

“They’re harvest and autumn goddesses!” Aya all but shouted to the heavens. “Them ‘Having Seeds Sown Together in Their Fertile Fields’ makes perfect sense!”

 

“A testament to the debauchery of the human mind that it could be taken out of context.”

 

The Pure and Honest Shameimaru straightened her tie. “That, however, is old news. To a tengu, the winds are pointed in a permanently change-wise direction. And so here I am, aspiring, as always, to bring the true facts of fantasy to the world at large.”

 

“Sorry to say,” said Keine placing a hand on her door, “but I don’t need a newspaper subscription. I prefer to do my own history recording.”

 

“No, ma’am. We already have a local distributor, and I’m the head editor. Have you seen my card?” Aya genteelly leaned the card into the doorframe. “What I would like to do today is interview view you for a piece on the temple school.”

 

Keine took the card. The embossed red words declared the owner to be:

 

**Aya Shameimaru**

**Specialty Human &**

**Social Awareness Reportage Writer**

**Extraordinaire**

 

“Don’t you mean ‘Human Specialist?’”

 

“Sorry? A human human specialist? That’s redundant. I’m just a little more than human. We are, heheh, birds of a feather in that regard. Besides,” Aya lowered her voice. Their faces now inches apart. “Wouldn’t you agree that humanity is more a state of mind than a state of being? Isn’t it a travesty how nonhumans and half-humans can come and go, or even _live_ , as they please in the village?”

 

Keine left these questions hanging. Those were apples that grew their own razor blades. You had to be circumspect with your words around Aya Shameimaru even when she didn’t have her notebook open; crows had an infamously pinpoint memory.

 

It would nevertheless be wise to at least respond. Aya spun nothing far more efficaciously than she could something. Just stick to brief, rigid facts…

 

“Historically, all youkai found making a ruckus in the human village have be exterminated,” said Keine, and added, quickly, “An interview. That’s all you want?”

 

“Also the truth,” said Aya breezily. “But who doesn’t?”

 

“And you won’t quote me when I’m off record?”

 

“Tengu scout’s honor.”

 

“And I get to look at the headline before you go to press.”

 

“I’ll fly it out myself. How does that sound?”

 

With a grunt, either marking her satisfaction with these terms, or frustration that Aya agreed to them, Keine beckoned the reporter inside.

 

“Come into the main room. I’ll get some tea ready. Do you take yak butter?” inquired Keine. Aya may have been a conniving, opinionated, prying, bird-brained mountebank of a journalist who could barely justify the type on her paper, but that was no reason to forgo manners.

 

“Yes, please,” said Aya as she removed her shoes, as any civilized crow would. “And seven sugars.”

 

“Let me guess, it takes a rigorous diet to maintain your natural level of sweet?” said Keine sourly.

 

“Why, Miss Kamishirasawa, it’s as if you’ve read my mind.”

 

\-----

 

The room Aya was deposited in reminded her of her home office: cluttered, messes of paper scattered about, and crammed with things people had done. She folded herself on a cushion, and cast an editorial eye. Rather than the world of news, which spun chaotically and had air tinged with lead, this atmosphere presented her with a new wind under her wings, fluffy and blue. There was something in the tatami mats, the fresh sunlight streaming through the paper walls, the scrapings of tea being made a room over, the flat cushion already making her legs fall asleep that was making her feel like she was back in jolly old Muromachi. Aya was tempted to label it as Nostalgia.

 

What really drew Aya into this sensation were the pictures Keine had spread around, the crystalized memories of students and coworkers long past suspended in sepia for eternity to witness.

 

They were awful!

 

Okay, Aya knew that everyone began something as an amateur, but these pictures had to be spread over years, and _no one_ at _any point_ thought to bring up depth of field? Line? _Texture_? It bordered on willful ignorance, really.

 

But Aya understood. It gave a good Image. The history eater surrounded by visual metaphors for antiquity. Not terribly impressive, of course, but the wall of scrolls didn’t give off enough impression on its own.

 

In absence of an intimidating air, the scrolls of history had gone for sheer numbers. The grand history of Gensokyo spread out before Aya, left on the floor, piled in cabinets to the point of breaking, and crammed in pigeonholes. Oh, the stories Aya could write with the Truths contained within. Anything written by a hakutaku was not only true, but True: complete, inviolable Truth. The universe set its clocks to the directions of the hakutaku; even retroactively, should the need arise. Good thing the hakutaku took pride in being less imaginative than your common marshland, which made recording history and advising emperors engaging tasks like no other. Their ability to audit history might be considered dangerous otherwise. Supposedly, the only history immune to this was that written by a Child of Miare. Although the only ones to suppose this have been Children of Miare.

 

Normally a great believer in preemptive investigative journalism, Aya opted now to leave them be. Keine would no doubt notice they had moved; she had eyes in the back of her head. She also had eyes in the back of her neck, arms, legs, and back, and a few on the front for good measure. That was the problem in dealing with a hakutaku: the eyes always had you. The pen may have been mightier than the sword (as extensively demonstrated through Aya’s skirmishes with Inubashiri), but Aya was hesitant to test its mettle vis-à-vis the headbutt.

 

Anyway, who wanted their truth spoon-fed to them? Those scrolls were all substance, no flash. Reading them would be tantamount to cheating.

 

This reverie was broken when Keine set a cup of tea in front of her.

 

“The good teas are expensive on a teacher’s salary, but I pray you will find it at least adequate,” said Keine, settling with her own cup opposite of Aya.

 

“It’s quite alright, Miss Kamishirasawa,” said Aya graciously, taking a sip. “Er. Exactly alright, I’d say. Definitely above average as far as human teas go.”

 

“Your generosity does you great service, Miss Shameimaru.”

 

Pleasantries done with and human masterfully conciliated, Aya pulled a notebook and pen from her satchel.

 

“I’d like to thank you for agreeing to this interview, because I was under the, clearly false, pretense that you detested my existence for some reason. Not on the record, by the way.”

 

“You mean a reason aside from your degenerate lack of respect for your subjects’ privacy, a complete, wanton unwillingness to accept when they don’t want to speak with you, the adherence to depravation with a zeal that, frankly, borders on commendable, and how you habitually twist and splinter people’s words to suit whatever your cause happens to be this week?”

 

Aya coughed. “Actually, I stopped my caws when I three hundred and seven, which, I will have you know, is considerably early for a tengu chick to cease cawing.”

 

“My apologies, for it was not my intention to misrepresent you,” said Keine. “In any manner, I have no desire to be at the receiving end of your officious destitution of ethics once more.”

 

“My trenchant journalistic assiduousness,” corrected Aya.

 

Keine took a dainty sip of tea.

 

“Yet, however fallacious you persist on being, you are not mendacious. By some cosmic windfall, never once have you told an objective falsehood. To any student of history, much less one with my unique pedigree, that is deeply estimable. When other newspapers reported ‘Woman Gives Birth To Cobra,’ it was _Bunbunmaru_ that went the extra mile to confirm that, in actuality, it was an adder. And then proceeded to go on a page and a half tirade regarding the human mammary system’s capacity to support a snakelet.”

 

“Ah, yes. One of my all-time most popular issues.”

 

“And deservedly so. If I am to speak with a newspaper, it may as well be _Bunbunmaru_.”

 

“And I suspect,” said Aya, flipping the notebook to an empty page, “that working in an under-funded, under-known, under-literate enterprise that stands much to gain in the way of free publicity didn’t factor into your decision in any way?”

 

“Correct.” Keine set the teacup down and interdigitated her fingers. “Now then, how may I aid the press today?”

 

“My knowledge of the human school system isn’t complete, so correct me wherever I’m wrong,” said Aya. “How I heard it, young humans are separated into different sections based on their age, where they learn different grades of knowledge appropriate for that age. And since most parents pull their children out of school to aid them for the planting season, it is not fiscally plausible to keep the school running during that time, so you close it down, but not before having a ceremony which passes on the right to the next grade of knowledge to students. A sort of gradation, if you will.” Aya uncapped her pen with a reporter’s flourish. “I would like the names of the students ascending to higher grades.”

 

The look of confusion on Keine face was practically audible.

 

“Names of students? No prying questions? No intrusion of personal bounds? No fighting? Rather tame compared to the ‘scoops’ you are known for pursuing.” She poked the alien word delicately, in case it set fire to her tongue.

 

“Not at all,” said Aya, smiling. “All news is is telling people what they want to hear. And what they want to hear the most is that they’re special. People love seeing their name in the paper. It’s a sort of immortalization. You understand the principle, history eater? I’d imagine mama and papa bird love seeing their little fledging in the paper even more.”

 

“My, are you certain you’re not printing money?” said Keine glassily.

 

“ _Bunbunmaru_ is already the bestselling tengu-written newspaper in the human village. This issue is predicted to topple the last issue’s numbers by seventy percent! We’re looking a smooth eleven _dozen_ copies sold!”

 

A realization formed. “The front page is going to be a story on Lady Yasaka’s latest technological endeavor, I take it?” said Keine politely.

 

“The ropeway? You can’t expect it to not, Miss Kamishirasawa. It’s revolutionary. A testament to the persistence of the divine, the ingenuity of the fiends, and the love humans have for novelty.”

 

“The same technological endeavor that had a delayed activation due to tengu gusts in the area? And this is predicted to be one of your highest selling issues? A lot of fear and respect for the tengu going around now because of that. I don’t mind saying the children are terrified of you.”

 

“Why, thank you. But flattery will get you nowhere.” Aya winked. “I heard about the tengu gusts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be in the crowd. I was on official karasu tengu business.”

 

Keine, who noted the particular usage of ‘in the crowd,’ sighed. You had to give the tengu credit for one thing: they knew how to levy a societal crowbar when they needed it. They weren’t at the top of the pecking order for nothing.

 

“Well, directory information such as student names is available upon request,” said Keine. “The school master is the one you want to ask.”

 

“Uh, yeah. That’s you, isn’t it?”

 

“Me? No! I teach history and occasionally ethics. I barely have a voice on the union. Why would you think I’m the school master?”

 

“Wait, you are the most powerful member of the facility, aren’t you?”

 

“Interesting you should mention that, because after several peer reviewed historical investigations, it was recently determined that prowess in battle does not correlate to ability in administrating an educational institution. Releasing any information on the school or its students without permission is grounds for termination.”

 

“You can’t beat whoever in a spell card duel?”

 

“Please, Miss Shameimaru, I am not risking my job for a newspaper article.”

 

“I guess not everyone can have a journalist’s spirit,” said Aya sadly. She tapped the blank page with her pen. “Alright. I’ll write a small blurb on the school beforehand. I’ll have the inches. Can I get a quote on your opinions of what the temple school means for Gensokyo’s future?”

 

Keine’s expression remained blank, but her eyes lingered on the infernal writing implement.

 

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “You can tell your readers that it is one teacher’s opinion that the advancement of knowledge is, and always has been, the greatest endeavor one can aspire to. Advance the mind, you advance yourself, and those around you.”

 

“Going to drag Gensokyo into the Year of Sun, Spring, and Water, eh?”

 

“You know, I never understood that dictum,” said Keine, as Aya’s pen flew. “Why are we, as a people, always dragging abstract concepts kicking and screaming? It strikes me as ineffective. Wouldn’t it be more productive to sit down with them in a non-hostile environment where all parties are equal, and over the course of several interactions establish a set of mores all can agree upon?”

 

Aya looked at what she just wrote, head to one side, then circled it and drew an ‘X’ through.

 

“But that doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, does it?” said the kindly Shameimaru.

 

“Not everything can be summed up in a pithy platitude.”

 

“It will if it’s worth reporting. That’s why headlines are forty percent an article, and a good picture is fifty. You don’t know anything about newspapers, do you?”

 

“I guess I don’t,” said Keine impassively. “Do you need anything else, Miss Shameimaru?”

 

Aya grinned, as one who was Very Glad You Asked That Question.

 

“Since you’re offering,” said Aya, “any information you have on the Crimson Watchguard would be appreciated.”

 

Anyone else would have missed it, but Aya, in the business of making other people’s business her business, easily saw the horned, multi-eyed sort of quality Keine’s gaze took on. No doubt it would have quite the effect on someone who made it a habit of doubting themselves. Aya met it unflinchingly.

 

“I was wondering why you were going through the trouble of being civil.” Keine drained the remainder of her tea and gave her full attention to the leaves at the bottom. “Did you know that some cultures believe the leaves at the bottom of your tea can help determine your future? Interesting, is it not, how human endeavors can be so accurately ascertained by soggy plants who don’t have the wherewithal to realize they’re nourishment?”

 

“Not really,” said the crow journalist. “Look, I’m more civil than anyone else on the Mountain, you know. Ever met Inubashiri? She’d gut you without so much as a comment on the weather. The height of rudeness, if you ask me.”

 

“So it’s already time for the tengu newspaper convention?” Kein continued. “Tengu tend to get a lot friendlier with other races when it is. All vying against each other for the – what’s the parlance? – the juiciest scoop they can find. Scoop of what, exactly, I remain unsure. I’m surprised you’re not doing your standard of causing something uproarious and reporting it.”

 

“Those nobs in charge of the convention said if I did, I’d be disqualified!” Aya actually growled. “Can you believe that? It’s still news!”

 

“What _is_ the media coming to?” commiserated Keine. “Which is why you want information on the Crimson Watchguard.”

 

“The tengu information network is massive, and we barely know anything on the phoenix. If I’m the one to crack the egg on it, no more last place for me! I’ll finally be able to give _Bunbunmaru_ the respect it deserves!”

 

“Oh, I’d say it gets the respect it deserves now,” said Keine, carefully blank. “But didn’t you already meet this…this _phoenix_ , you said? When you were doing that…thing you do. That thing where you annoy innocents across the whole of Gensokyo until they shoot danmaku at you and you take pictures of them? I’ve heard you met many rare and interesting people, I mean,” added Keine.

 

“No. What I _got_ was a bunch of overexposed photos of a burning figure that attacked me before I got a word in. A bunch of blurry pictures from years ago, an article does not make.”

 

“Well, I guess not-” Keine started, startled by this sudden spike of standards.

 

“They’d have to be at least _recent_ ,” Aya clarified.

 

“Oh. _That_ makes more sense.” Keine stood. “I know why you came to me for this, and I’m glad you did. This is mutually beneficial. I have the information; you have the audience. History deserves to out there on the streets, being aired, used by the masses, not crammed up the ivory tower gathering mold. Not that I’d let my scrolls mold,” added Keine severely to the woman with the open notebook.

 

Keine wandered over to a shelf of scrolls in more select state of neatness, and, after some deliberation, picked up a scroll that, to Aya, looked no different than its peers. Scrolls largely remained a closed book to her.

 

Keine sat back down, unfurled the scroll, and ran her eyes purposefully over the barely yellow paper before laying a finger on a passage.

 

Pen poised, Aya leaned forward.

 

“ _A Statement by the Hakurei Shrine Maiden in Regard to Sightings of the Eternal Fire Bird, and Subsequent Maimings upon Peoples by the Eternal Fire Bird_ ,” Keine announced, and got seven lines down before Aya said:

 

“Hold on. This is just the Fantasy Sermon! I was _there_ for that!”

 

“As it is now widely known as,” said Keine from behind her brow. “Named such when a now-Previous Hakurei Shrine Maiden assuaged the fears of the nation when she famously asserted, ‘If a fantasy bleeds, we can beat the tar out of it.’”

 

“Ha! Humans think they’re so good just because they’ve developed higher-order brain function. A few more neurons and suddenly they’re too good to be eaten by their own phantasms.”

 

“Quoted directly from _An Anonymous Letter Sent by a Tengu in Response to The Hakurei Shrine Maiden’s Declaration_ ,” said Keine, looking impressed. “I didn’t know you kept track of the more obscure primary sources.”

 

“Eh? Ah. I, uh, I don’t. Really. I knew the author, is all.”

 

“Tengu society was very cohesive in those days. The few amongst you that took an interest in humans must have stuck together,” said Keine, nodding. “You know, the _Anonymous Letter_ is an oft-quoted source for scholars who debate the question Does the Human Influence the Fantasy, or Does the Fantasy Influence the Human.”

 

“Really?” Aya murmured. Even brought up in positive context, it was always embarrassing to hear about one’s earlier works. Especially when it was during one’s ‘political phase’.

 

“Oh yes. Who’s to say effect has to follow cause?”

 

“Probably physics,” said Aya with authority. As a member of the media, she had a patently unassailable knowledge of the sciences.

 

Keine thought about this. “I cannot think of a time that’s stopped anything in Gensokyo before,” she said. “If there are no further interruptions, may we get back to the reading?”

 

“Yeah, one interruption: what is something I already know from the sixth Child of Miare’s _Gensokyo Chronicle_ supposed to do?”

 

“For one, that the Crimson Watchguard is seen predominately in and around the Bamboo Forest of the Lost.”

 

“I knew that. That’s where I found her the first time. Problem is: I can’t find her again. The Bamboo Forest is the one place the tengu network doesn’t reach. Oh, we’ve tried. Tried everything from fly-over mapping to expeditions to underground bases, and the only reason I can tell you that is because they’ve all amounted to nothing. That Forest…it’s more than just an area filled with magic. It’s a _magical area_. It breaths, and it learns, it _thinks for itself_ -”

 

“I can understand how that would be a problem, for you in particular,” said Keine cheerily.

 

“-and it won’t let go of its secrets without a fight. It’s where the hospital, rabbits, Crimson Watchguard, feral youkai, that yakitori vendor who never seems to be around when we have questions, and these strange lights and screams are; that’s all we know. However, if I was with someone the Forest was a bit more familiar with…” Aya trailed off meaningfully.

 

“I can ask aforementioned yakitori vendor to show you around. Though I doubt you will get much information from her. She tends to steer clear of youkai of a certain cataclysmic potential.”

 

“But I’d be disguised as a human,” Aya pointed out.

 

“I was more referring to the dangers in the Bamboo Forest,” said Keine. “Would you like me to talk to her?”

 

“No,” said Aya after a brief reflection. “I came to you for a reason.”

 

She leaned forward. “And we both know what that reason is, were-hakutaku.”

 

“We do?” said Keine, raising an eyebrow.

 

“There’s no need to play these games, Miss Kamishirasawa.”

 

“Games?” said Keine, flustered to an extreme.

 

“Everyone who’s anyone already knows what you are and what you do on the full moon.”

 

“They do?” said Keine, thoroughly baffled.

 

“Yes!” snapped Aya. These roundabouts and non-answers were starting to get on her nerves. For once, why couldn’t someone tell the clean truth? Humiliating, is what it was.

 

“Look, I understand your concerns,” attempted Aya. “Let me assure you: only minimal personal information will be printed. A black bar will be inserted over your eyes. Your name reduced to initials. Your address missing numbers. It’s all very confidential.”

 

“My concern, Miss Shameimaru, is that I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am a history teacher. I work six days a week, spend my time at home grading papers, and can occasionally afford to buy meat with my rice. I do not know what you are accusing me of, but be aware that I do not consort with youkai. Beyond… _assisting_ …the odd stray youkai or fairy away from the village,” she added carefully.

 

They locked gazes.

 

“So you say,” said Aya. “But you are going to tell me what you know about the Crimson Watchguard. I have ways of making you do it.” Without breaking eye contact, she reached into the depths of her satchel and pulled out a small array of cards. “Three of them. Fair number, yeah? I win, you talk.”

 

“A spell card duel for information? Hmm. I’ve been entreated for more ephemeral.” From a pocket in her dress, Keine produced her own handful of cards. “It is a dead woman who doesn’t carry her spell cards with her, and it is a testament to how ingrained they’ve become in Gensokyoite culture that many dead women continue holding on to theirs. I am hesitant to give the current Hakurei any praise, but she really unearthed something spectacular. They even benefit humans.” She put the cards back. “I’m afraid, however, I have to decline your challenge.”

 

A second later, Aya’s brain processed what it heard. Then tried again, and got it the right shape the fifth time through.

 

“What do mean you decline?” she snapped. _You’re in the human village_ , she reminded herself. _Invoking a cyclone is a no-no._ “Who declines a- You can’t decline a spell card challenge!”

 

“Of course you can,” said Keine, with the weariness of the only one who read the rulebook. “Given the choice between a friendly contest of danmaku and being eaten alive, or facing the Hakurei Shrine Maiden at full power, those with more brain cells than teeth are likely to opt for the former.” Aya opened her mouth, but Keine appeared ready. “You are offering me neither of these consequences, and, furthermore, I already know I cannot defeat you in a game of danmaku. And for heavens’ sake! Stop reaching for the fan you concealed in your jacket. I won’t be threatened, and I’d rather not my house be blown over! _Why do you never learn_?”

 

Aya closed her mouth and lowered her hand with a calm in her eye that anyone who knew her well would be horrified of; the only other thing that had eyes like that were hurricanes.

 

“You were surprised by my initial inquires, know exactly what I was going to do, and you already knew my ‘too sweet’ japery…” said Aya, voice scarcely more than modulated breath. “This isn’t my first time here, is it, history eater?”

 

Keine slammed her hands on the table. Her teacup rattled. “ _You dare_? You impute me in misusing my power!? The power of the hakutaku is not to be used recklessly, and I’m here every full moon, head hunched over, making history, because no one else is. I knew what you were going to do because you sent three people to Dr. Yagokoro last month in pursuit of your…‘ _news articles_.’ Twenty-seven in total last year. It’s called extrapolation from past behavior. When you make as much history as I do, you learn to be good at it without magic.”

 

“Yes, you make history. You cement the olds, Miss Kamishirasawa. But _I_ …I make news. And you better start talking before I report sightings of a hideous horned youkai masquerading as a human for years in the village.”

 

And for the first time since she sat down, Aya saw Keine’s expression contort in panic.

 

“There is no proof-” began the teacher.

 

“There doesn’t need to be. Fear will find the youkai that isn’t there. That’s news magic for you. With a picture and a headline, I reshape people from the inside out. Remember when I printed that satire Apocalypse scenario? People really thought the world was ending; in a sense, their world was. It got so bad, Reimu had to step in. You want extrapolation from past behavior? Take a guess at what happens when Reimu has to step in to deal with a human-turned-youkai, roiling up the anxieties of the local populace.”

 

Keine said nothing. She didn’t have to guess.

 

“Reimu and I know each other very well,” Aya went on. “She puts up wards written _specifically_ to keep me out she knows me so well. If I were to suggest I knew the location of the youkai upsetting the balance between us and them, she’d listen to me. I’d get a snort, a gohei to the kneecaps, and it’d be three days before she did anything, but she’d listen. But that won’t happen if you talk and _tell me why you keep fighting with the Crimson Watchguard_! What are you hiding, why are you changing history, and – Did I say something funny?”

 

“Could you…say that again?” said Keine, slowly, so as to not burst out in laughter again.

 

Aya rolled her eyes. “Come _on_. It’s obvious the Crimson Watchguard regularly gets into altercations against someone beyond the capabilities of your prosaic feral youkai. It’s either, extremely likely, you, less likely, the doctor, even less likely, that lunar immigrant, or, zero probability, that layabout human always at Eientei for whatever reason.” She waved her pen under Keine’s nose. “So are you going to come clean, or what?”

 

“I suppose I have no choice now,” said Keine. She leaned back, still holding back chuckles. “She’s real, she doesn’t like to be talked about, and I do my best to respect that. We’ve had a few disagreements in the past; she’s a better person than she’s willing to believe, you see. She used to be a monster. She’s killed innocents in the past, but it’s just that: in the past. It’s amazing how people are willing to talk to someone if they don’t kill them on the spot, and, of course, the fact that she wears clothes now doesn’t hurt that image either.” There was a faraway dream in Keine’s gaze. “As for getting around the Forest of the Lost, I can’t help there. It _doesn’t_ want to let go of its secrets. Not for someone who would exploit them. Maybe…you can find someone to help it recognize your Pure and Honest side.”

 

“What, like that yakitori vendor?” said Aya, pen scratching industriously across her notebook. “Or someone like Hieda no Akyuu?”

 

“Either. Both are more knowledgeable than I regarding Gensokyo’s darkest corners. Though I cannot imagine Akyuu would give you the time of day again after-”

 

“Okay, _okay_.” Aya jabbed the pen in Keine direction. “ _That_ one, I sort of knew what I was doing. In my defense, a cat with purple fur isn’t exactly what’d you call common, therefore, worth reporting, and the headline had such good alliteration!”

 

“I actually agree,” said Keine, flashing a smile only a youkai could muster. “The headline wouldn’t have the same impact if it read _Child of Miare Pleasantly Plays with Purple Pilose Cat in Public_.”

 

 

\-----

 

Aya walked out into the radiant late afternoon sun with triumph in her step.

 

True, she hadn’t accrued as much information as she hoped, but a handful of leads were better than nothing. Even better, she outsmarted one of history’s editors. The half-hakutaku must have eaten the history of her previous visits. Keine insisted otherwise, because of course she would try to save face, but there was no pulling fast ones on a tengu; they were faster. The mere act of denial was the first flag. Denial meant someone was hiding. Hiding meant there was something to hide. Something to hide meant they were guilty. Journalism 101, that was.

 

Obvious logic dictated heading to Hieda no Akyuu if one had inquiries on the mysteries of Gensokyo. The Child of Miare, by birthright and hobby, knew all there was to know about this grand land. None of them ever released an article on the Crimson Watchguard in their _Chronicle_ , but it was acknowledged that Yukari Yakumo edited out information for the public release, for those who did Not Need To Know.

 

This withstanding, and aside that Aya would be shooed away for something that was, tops, thirty percent her fault, she preferred avoiding conversation with Akyuu. For all her lives’ experience, Akyuu was _so_ boring at the stick and carrot game; so unlike Reimu, or even Keine. Reimu tended to use stick, with its flowing shide, with unbridled efficacy, while Keine seemed to prefer smacking you in the teeth with the carrot.

 

Turning on the path due for the Bamboo Forest, Aya pulled her cap further down over her eyes.

 

Then, too long ashen hair and all, she saw the yakitori vendor fanning the embers on her grill.

 

-and on the edge of Aya’s psyche, something looked up, and began to caw.

 

_This is the same yakitori vendor_ , it said, _that no one knows anything about, walks through the Bamboo Forest like her back yard, and walks it without fear of youkai, and has been around for as long as most can remember_ -

 

“Uh. Can I interest you in some yakitori, ma’am?” said the vendor, causing Aya to snap out of her staring.

 

She looked down at the roasting birds with a barely-suppressed shudder. She knew it was poultry, but that didn’t stop the tiniest of corvid features from glinting in the mind’s eye.

 

“No thank you,” said Aya, as respectfully as she could manage, and hurried along the path. Imagined or no, she wasn’t the type to eat crow.

 

What had she been thinking? Why had the thought that of that vendor being the Crimson Watchguard even been suggested? She was a human; Aya could smell that succulent human smell coming off her in droves. Admittedly spiced with a pinch of magic, but it was rarer and rarer to find a human not proficient in some type of magic, some small ability unique to them. So what if she’d been sighted for centuries? Humans procreate, one of their only purposes in any organized society, and their procreations all looked like their procreators. Hmm. Maybe those rumors of a ninja clan in the Bamboo Forest held some weight, after all. Worth a note, to be certain.

 

Besides, Aya concluded as she came to a stop a fair distance into the Forest, vague eyewitness reports always placed a bow-like apparatus on the Crimson Watchguard’s head, not the traditional grill master’s headscarf. It’s not as if a weak human could simply change her headgear.

 

Aya unslung her satchel, flicked it open, replaced the cabbie on her head with the tokin she never left behind, removed her jacket-

 

And shivered.

 

More from the shock of this traipsing cold wave rather than the temperature decrease; as someone whose main method of transportation involved flying at subsonic speeds through the lower atmosphere, Aya was handily chill-proof.

 

Then, as if it was never there, the gelid air had gone.

 

She stretched her wings through her open-back blouse as her journalist’s mind began to sparkle.

 

Brief cold snaps followed by the sun, and, come to think of it, didn’t one side of the Youkai Mountain look suspiciously like deep autumn? She had written it off as the Akis working off some excess faith. Though if weather everywhere was haywire…

 

Aya folded her jacket into her satchel before securing the bag over a wing.

 

Time to travel as the crow flies.

 

She crouched, and flapped once.

 

After the sonic boom subsided, Aya could be found nearly to Youkai Mountain.

 

She’d get the notes on this Watchguard scoop sorted and slip into something a little more befitting her station before paying Reimu a visit. She could probably get away with not stopping by the Hakurei Shrine, but there were courtesies to observe. Possibly Reimu was already investigating. Aya doubted it, but if there was anywhere for the impossible to manifest, it was Gensokyo.

 

If nothing else, this would make an interesting footnote in the weather column.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone give a round of applause for UnmovingGreatLibrary for beta reading!
> 
> My Tumblr: http://clockworksampi.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider commissioning me to write for you, it'll help me out a lot!: http://clockworksampi.tumblr.com/post/146010687102/sampis-commission-information
> 
> This was kind of written in anticipation for the new game, but mostly I needed topics for Kine and Aya to talk about, and I just read Wild and Horned Hermit #39, and then the demo came out, so I was like, “Sure. Why not?” Also: I wanted to give Keine another chance; I feel like I didn’t do her justice in Squeeze.
> 
> Fun Facts: I initially had trouble writing Aya. At first I was trying to write her like like William de Worde from Sir Terry Pratchett’s The Truth, but after many false starts, I realized she should instead be like C.M.O.T. Dibbler from the same novel. Just look at this exchange between William and Dibbler and you tell me that Aya and Dibbler aren’t cut from the same cloth:
> 
> “‘You are an immoral opportunist, Mr. Dibbler,’ said William.
> 
> ‘It’s worked so far.’”
> 
> This one quote was, more-or-less, my basis for my take on Aya.
> 
> What was your favorite pun? Mine was: “Aya may have been a conniving, opinionated, prying, bird-brained mountebank of a journalist who could barely justify the type on her paper, but that was no reason to forgo manners.” That one takes a bit of newspapering knowledge to understand. Also the title. I’m almost too proud of that one.


End file.
